


FIC: Time and Change, part 1 of 2

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Interspecies, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26478157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By Pythoness.Continuing the story of the romance of Legolas and Gimli immediately after the War of the Rings
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Kudos: 4
Collections: Least Expected





	FIC: Time and Change, part 1 of 2

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is written exclusively for the enjoyment of myself and my friends, and in no way is intended to impinge upon the rights of the estate of JRR Tolkien.  
>  Feedback: Feedback is great. Archiving is fine, please let me know. Thank you.  
>  Story Notes: There is a good bit more of this history in the works, but when it'll be strung together enough to post, I'm not sure. Part II shouldn't be too long now.

Their lingering journey had not been without its perils, for several times they had encountered fleeing orcs; yet the adventures which Gimli treasured in memory were not the warlike skirmishes but the landmarks of love: Legolas' expression of awe in the Glittering Caves, his beautiful face upturned in the light of the lantern he held; waking deep in the night to find his lover standing naked on a tree branch high above, singing softly to the moon; a day in the timeless green light of Fangorn when he and Legolas sang each other endless songs, surrounded by ancient trees which appeared to listen in astonishment; and the moment of loveliness when Legolas added his precise, crystalline tenor in an eerie descant over Gimli's rich baritone. After that they had often sung together, learning the patterns and harmonies of new musics, for their voices blended surprisingly well. 

There had been the day that Gimli learned to swim underwater. Dwarves do not swim for pleasure, unless long soaks in ornate heated baths are to be counted, and do not make a sport of it. They can make shift to keep afloat when necessary, but regard wild water as an adversary to be overcome, or a problem to be solved, rather than as a playmate: a potentially lethal peril in underground places and a dangerous inconvenience overland. Legolas, of course, swam like an otter, and after endless patient coaxing had persuaded Gimli to join him in a secluded pool where the water was clear, the bottom clean and stony, and the water not too cold. It had come as a revelation to Gimli not only that the sensation of weightlessness in the cool water was pleasant, but that he could dive as Legolas did--or at least somewhat in the same fashion, if a porgy is ever like a porpoise--and emerge undrowned. Even so he had declined to make love in the water, saying that he would not spawn like a fish. Now he found he regretted that. 

There had been many such moments, sensations and images etched on their hearts, and they had tarried on their way as long as they dared, knowing their kin waited impatiently and feeling the calls of home. The day, late in autumn, when finally they met with three elves from the homeland of Legolas, hunting far afield, marked the end of that first phase of love, when they had been for a while alone together, free of responsibility save to one another, answerable to none. Gimli remembered well the look of joy that had lit his companion's face when he caught sight of his kinsmen from afar, and the look of sadness and regret that followed hard upon it when he realized that their honeymoon was come to an end, many miles before such an end would have been inevitable. 

Yet already Legolas' mood had begun to change, for here at the southern extremity of the forest the fires had wrought the greatest ruin, and the sight of the dead trees and raped lands had awakened in him a sense of urgency that no bare knowledge of change and battle could have done; for the first time in their journey Legolas' heart truly yearned for home. They had fallen in with the hunters, and thus escorted headed directly for the palace of Thranduil, as if they had been lazily drifting and eddying in a backwater and were now swept into a current. Somewhat against his heart Gimli had allowed himself to be persuaded to accompany the Elves, not because of any great desire to travel longer in woods nor to meet the elven-king, but because he was not ready to bid farewell so suddenly and unceremoniously to one who had become the universe to him. Legolas also seemed unwilling to part, and had--unexpectedly but gratifyingly--added his voice to the persuasions. 

He was greeted courteously, housed very comfortably, and fed magnificently; but Gimli was not happy during his short stay in the Elvenking's Halls. To begin, it was hard for him to share one whom he had come to regard as his own: Legolas was given, fittingly enough, a hero's welcome, and it was not to Gimli's liking to see his lover kissed and caressed by endless beauties of both sexes who had known him, perhaps intimately--perhaps for centuries!--and to see those caresses returned in kind. Somehow Gimli had managed to ignore the knowledge that Legolas had, indeed, dear family and friends among his people, and duties and offices of which he was not permanently free--there was still a great deal about his lover which he did not know, and he was now forced to see him not just as a single beloved entity, but as a member of family and community, with ties and commitments besides those to Gimli. Singular and unique, because he was lover and beloved, yes--but not alone, and not unattached to a people and a way of life: an affection, however great, not altogether undivided. 

Secondly, there was the sensation that all was known to the people of Eryn Lasgalen. Wherever he looked he met composed and incuriously attentive faces, yet Gimli could not shake the feeling that behind him were glances shocked, speculating, gleeful--that silent laughter and perhaps silent outrage trailed in his wake, though he could never see it. He felt as if he were imagining things, yet he could not shake off the sensation. Legolas too seemed anxious and distracted, and the reticence of the palace had apparently fallen upon him as well: Gimli rarely saw him alone during the day, and though Legolas came to him in the middle of the night he did not stay long enough for lovemaking, nor did he speak of what passed with his kin, and soon left Gimli alone with his dark imaginings to wonder bitterly how and with whom his lover spent the rest of his time. 

Gimli was certain, however, that he had not imagined the interchange that occurred between Thranduil and Legolas at their reunion. 

They had been presented to the throne together, and the King's first action had been to embrace his son tenderly--indeed more tenderly, and for a longer duration, than was seemly to Gimli's dwarvish sense of public decorum. He then turned to Gimli, who, mindful of his own manners, had sunk to one knee, and raised him with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "You are welcome, Gimli Gloin's son," he said pleasantly, "We hope to show you every hospitality, for we hear you are become dear to one who is dear indeed to us." 

With that, Thranduil's gaze turned to Legolas, resting, Gimli was sure, for a moment on the ring he wore on his thumb, then to his eyes. For a moment the look held, and though Gimli could not have said what passed between them, the colloquy hung tense in the air, and when the King looked away--as he did first--there was a shadow on his brow. 

Yet the dwarf never met with palpable discourtesy of any kind, although at the feasts that followed he was teased and pestered by elf-maidens who coaxed him to dance, or flirted with him jestingly. Gimli was quite sure he was being made a figure of fun, and declined further participation as politely as he could--although he found their games not altogether unpleasing. At least it proved a distraction: Legolas was always seated at his father's right hand, and Gimli, perhaps by design, farther down among the tables, and though they generally sat or stood together later when tales of their adventures were called for, Legolas was invariably whisked away before they had a chance of a private moment. 

Lastly, seeing that for Legolas it was time to take up the burdens he had left behind at his home, mourn for those departed in battle, and for a time, at least, live as an elf among elves, Gimli realized that the time was come for him to rejoin his own people. While he tarried in the forest, a new King Under the Mountain awaited his sworn fealty, and he did not doubt that much work and much grieving lay ahead of him, and that many changes had taken place, and he chafed to be home. 

So he had stayed only a few nights with the Elves, and on the last, at feast in the wood--the elves seemed endlessly fond of celebrating out-of-doors; Gimli wondered if mosquitoes did not like the taste of elf-blood, or if they had some pact with them, and if smoke did not sting elvish eyes--Gimli had sat somewhat forlorn, alone, and drowsy with wine, when something struck him in the back with a light impact. 

He turned with a frown, but blinded by the torchlight it was several seconds before he made out the figure of his lover, half-hidden among the trees--beckoning, tall, and serious, and lovely. It was with a beating heart that Gimli scrambled from his seat and moved to follow. 

Legolas met him with a secretive smile, took his hand in a cool, firm grip, and led him deep into the woods, silent, without even the sound of a footfall, barely seen only an arm's-length away in his dark clothes, by the cloud-filtered light of a gibbous moon which shone high above the ceiling of half-bare branches, on which leaves still rattled in the chill breeze. Gimli, full of wine, wondered if he were dreaming, and whether it might not prove to be a nightmare--he was almost no longer certain it was truly Legolas who held his hand. Within minutes he had no idea which way the Elvenking's halls lay in the trackless undergrowth; reliable as a compass underground, he had no head for directions through the confusion of boles and canopies that hid even the sky from direct sight. 

When the elf halted at last they stood in a little clearing, surrounded by the still, watchful forms of tall trees, and moon sailed in view at last, shining behind scraps of silver-edged cloud. After a moment a little glow of light appeared; Legolas had opened a dark-lantern that contained a single candle. He held it up and they looked at each other in the yellow light. Seeing his face, Gimli felt the anger and resentment that had been building in him loosen its grip and begin to dissipate. 

"I cannot believe you are to be gone tomorrow," Legolas said softly. His voice fell echoless in the night, absorbed by trees and moss and centuries of leaf-mould as if in a room hung with tapestries. "It has not been so long, and yet--it seemed as if it would never end, and I did not wish it to. Now I feel like I have been soaring, and am brought low, like a pinioned hawk, yearning for the sky. I shall miss you, Gimli." 

Gimli was silent for a moment, torn between relief, rue, and shame. In the couple of days during which he had felt himself misused and neglected he had come to fear haughty words or rejection, and had been unprepared for so tender a speech; now he felt himself faithless. "Surely it need not be for very long," he said at last. "What are a few weeks or months to an elf?" 

"I cannot measure time by days or weeks, pecks or bushels," Legolas said wearily, "but only by the beating of my heart." He sat down on the ground, lantern still in hand, and Gimli saw that there were hides spread there, and sat down as well, by the elf's side. "I begrudge any time without you, while we are still so new to one another. Who knows what may happen inside those weeks or months? It is foolish of me to fear, I know, yet it will be strange to be separated, and already I ache for you." 

Gimli clasped his hand, felt the possessive pressure in return. "But what is it that you fear?" he asked. "Surely not that I could cease to care for you, or you for me." He lied kindly, for those fears had, until this moment, been uppermost in his own heart. 

"It is time I fear, and change," Legolas said softly. "We were free for a while. Whatever comes next it must be different, and that is hard, after the best of times." 

"But must it be worse?" Gimli persisted. "You shall be here in your home, and I shall be in mine, and both shall bide safe and happy--yearning maybe, but only for a time--until we join again. Perhaps the best times are still to come!" 

Legolas sighed, and smiled, ruefully. "Perhaps I exaggerate," he said softly. "But you must know I have returned home something of an outcast. It is not the home it was, and I shall not be truly happy until I am safe away with you again, to Gondor or wherever it may be." 

Gimli shook his head. He regretted the wine he had drunk, which obscured his thoughts. "I do not understand what has brought on your mood," he said. "You speak as if you fear that we will never return to Gondor. What is there to prevent us?" 

"Time, and change," the elf repeated softly. "It is only that I have never felt so for anyone, Gimli, and I have had my first glimpse of how the world will work against us. I expected it, and yet it is harder when it comes." 

*Time and change,* thought Gimli, *the very things the elves fly, leaving Middle-Earth, and the rest of us here to live with them as well as we may. Are these new fears for him, things he need not fret over if I were also an elf?* 

"That I understand," Gimli said aloud. "This place is filled with those who seem to make our business their own, and none who are willing to be forthright--with me, at least. Has the king been hard with you?" 

"I have not yet spoken to him alone," Legolas said. "I shall let him nurse any hurts until he sends for me, and then we shall have it out. But him I do not fear; there is love enough between us. And he is my dear Lord, but he will not prevent my coming to you, even should he try. As for the others--you must understand, Gimli: what more interests elves than elves? And after such dark days as we have all known, what harmless and delicious gossip we two provide! It is credit to the work of the Fellowship that my kinsfolk can so enjoy themselves, even at our expense." 

He spoke indulgently, with a smile, as if his own obvious discomfort were a small matter. Perhaps it was, Gimli thought--perhaps Legolas was generous enough to take the hurts without the anger. "How is it that all is known?" Gimli asked. "Surely neither you nor I have said a word, and yet. . ." 

Legolas shook his head. "There are many channels of information," he said, wearily, as if it were too complex a matter to go into. "And I myself am not the least of them, for whether I speak or no, I have changed, and it is obvious to some eyes." Gimli squinted at him closely. "Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I think I can see the beginnings of a beard..." 

Legolas laughed, the jest an unexpected relief to his heart. "And have I become an inch or two shorter, do you think?" 

"As for me, I am hopelessly and irredeemably a dwarf," Gimli said. "Unless I have acquired a slight elvish spring in my step, or my bottom is growing bald, I don't believe there is a change my kin could notice." 

"Ah! May your bottom never grow bald, Gimli! But there has been something of a lightness in your tread, these past weeks. And bringing you here has taken it right out again, I fear." His smile faded, and he watched Gimli's face anxiously. 

Gimli waved it away with a dismissive frown. "I see now it has been hard for you, as well." 

"It has been difficult," Legolas agreed, without emphasis. "But we have seen greater difficulties, you and I, and I cannot doubt we will see others. But tonight we two are here alone, and I do not much desire to speak of difficulties..." He stretched himself out on the hide, resting his head against the obliging root of a tree as if familiar with its shape. "Look," he said, pointing upward. "The sky is clearing." 

Only tatters of cloud were now passing in the circle of sky above the clearing. Gimli glanced up at the scudding silver scraps, then down again, to watch the gleam of Legolas' eyes as he gazed solemnly up at the moon. 

The wind soughed through the branches overhead, bringing a handful of dry leaves rattling down. "Is this a place you have come before?" the dwarf asked, turning to eye the ring of trees, peering into the gloom between them as if scanning for enemies. 

"Yes--often," Legolas replied. He smiled wistfully at the sky. "But it may be the last, unless it happens that you come here again with me." 

Gimli thought he understood, and it pleased him. He gave a little sigh of satisfaction, and laid himself down beside the elf, his head on the same hard pillow, and for a few minutes all was quiet, save for the wind. The moon dodged in and out of cloudwrack. Gimli had the strange sensation that he and his companion drifted on a deep current, carried swiftly past the stationary clouds, as if he were looking up at the surface of an ocean from many fathoms deep. As he gazed he felt Legolas shift and draw closer, and turned with a smile to receive his kiss. 

"I brought you here to say farewell," Legolas said softly as they drew apart and lay with brows touching. "I will ride with you tomorrow, if you will have me, but we must have an escort, so all that must be said or done in private must be done this night. . ." 

"An escort?" Gimli demanded indignantly. "Half a battalion to keep us apart? Is this an--" 

Legolas chuckled softly and kissed him again, hard and deep, to quiet him. 

Gimli let himself be silenced in the sweetness of the kiss as Legolas moved slowly across Gimli's body, until the dwarf was pinned beneath him. 

"Gimli," he said, smiling, when at last their lips parted, "I do not often ride without escort. It will be the two trusty friends, no more, who accompanied me to Rivendell. You did not meet them, but they have served me since I rode on my first hunt. It has naught to do with you, or with us." 

Gimli did not reply at once, lost in admiration of the other's face, his expression of both amusement and tenderness. He stroked a finger down the elf's smooth cheek, tracing a line through the dimples of his smile. Gimli let his objections fade unspoken. Already his mind was elsewhere. "I will be glad of your company," he said. 

Legolas studied Gimli's face in turn, the humor of his expression giving way entirely to tenderness. "I did not stay to look in Kheled Zaram," he breathed, "but fair though it may be, I do not believe it is darker or deeper than your dear eyes." 

"You are blinded by the beauty of your own reflection," Gimli remarked, but his voice had deepened to a rumble that was almost a purr, "which you would not see in Kheled Zaram--fair as it is, such a vision would improve upon it." 

Legolas did not reply, but the dimples reappeared; his smile was as merry and unreserved as that of a child, as wise and sensual as that of a man in his prime. Again he bent to softly kiss, first Gimli's lips, then his cheek, his brow, his eyelids. His touch was light and quick, like moth-wings. Gimli chuckled and squirmed, and Legolas drew back again, to survey his effect with pleasure. 

His hair tumbled around their faces like a silken curtain, with a faint scent of woodsmoke and autumn flowers. Gimli stretched his fingers up through it, laced them behind the elf's neck, drew him down again gently. He kissed the cheek he had stroked, worked his way over to the soft warm place at the corner of the jaw, biting gently. Legolas grew very still, except to draw a slow breath and release it with a little shiver, and the whole of his weight--never as great as expected--settled easily against Gimli's body, present and willing. 

"There is a tooth in the wind tonight. Are you cold?" Legolas whispered at last, his lips at Gimli's ear. "You are no good to me cold." 

"Unless it be frozen stiff," Gimli replied, with a laugh. "Mm!" he added, as his earlobe was caught gently between the other's teeth. "I am warm enough with you as a blanket!" 

Legolas was already shifting so that he lay again at Gimli's side. His hand, pleasantly cool, slid into the neck of Gimli's shirt and tickled lightly across the hair of his breast, making the skin horripilate deliciously. "But it will be colder when you are naked, Gimli," he said, "and you shall be so before long, if I have my way." 

"Then you will have to do your part to drive away the night-chill." 

"And what part is that?" Legolas drew himself up a little again, to look into Gimli's face. "I have still a portion of what you call my virginity, and I wish, if you will, to replace it with experience tonight, before we part." 

Gimli made a sour face at the moon and sighed. Those were not the words he had most wanted to hear from his lover in the unexpectedly lovely night. "I cannot say it is an unfair request, yet I had rather not. . ." 

"That I know well enough," Legolas said easily, neither laughing nor condemning. "Nor do I much want to discomfort you. May we make a bargain that I shall make no demand tonight--that would be an ill thing, before we part--but you shall make a decision later, when perhaps the greater warmth will be more upon my side?" 

Gimli looked away from the moon and back into his lover's eyes with a wry smile. "Could I refuse so modest a request?" he said drily. *I doubt I could refuse you anything,* he added to himself, but preferred to wait and play the game, maybe hoping for a reprieve, and certainly hoping for earnest persuasion.


End file.
